Too Emotional
by Han-22x
Summary: For the first time, Lord Voldemort dwells on love, whilst torturing the Malfoy family. Very depressing. R&R please! :


A voice pleaded:

"Don't hurt her!"

Lord Voldemort turned round in surprise, and found himself looking into the determined grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. The pitiful boy was trembling from head to foot, but his chin was raised defiantly and he stared boldly into Lord Voldemort's red slit eyes.

The voice was surprisingly strong, from someone so weak.

It was a pity the boys precious pureblood was about to be wasted, for a reason as meagre as love.

Lord Voldemort stepped away from the shaking body of Narcissa Malfoy, who until seconds ago had been subject to the notorious Cruciatus curse. Few can guess the full horror of being under this unforgiveable Curse until they experience it for themselves – the excruciating pain, like knives stabbing into you again and again and again, along with the feeling of helplessness. Few could imagine. The grand room of Malfoy Manor still seemed to echo the terrified screams, the pleadings for the pain to stop. Lucius Malfoy, who had failed in his attempt to kill the Minister for Magic, had already received his punishment – he was lying slumped against a wall, blood trickling down his face, eyes closed. Finished with him, the Dark Lord had then turned on his wife.

It was displeasing, torturing the carriers of such precious pureblood, the blood he desired so greatly. As he watched Narcissa writhe on the floor in agony, he felt no regret or sadness – instead he felt disappointment. Disappointment that a family so worthy had proved themselves to be no better than Mudbloods.

Now, the Dark Lord looked into the eyes of the young boy. The foolish child, who attempted to stop his mother's torture. Did he really believe that he stood a chance against Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard? And all because of love, that burden all humans carried – the emotion that got in the way of even the most powerful wizards. Love. What a weak emotion it was – it led the wisest men to do the most idiotic things.

The boy with the white blonde hair crossed the room silently to where his mother lay, shaking on the floor. He knelt beside her, put his arms around her shoulders, and spoke softly into her ear. Lord Voldemort almost forgot to be angry that this boy had turned his back on him, so intrigued he was with this show of open affection. It was true when they said he knew nothing of love, he had never experienced it. He had never had a mother, father, or real friends.

Lord Voldemort shook away these thoughts, suddenly furious with himself. He was becoming weak; he shouldn't dwell on such unimportant matters. Still angry, he turned on Draco.

"_Crucio!"_

He distracted himself from his previous thoughts by concentrating on giving this boy an experience of pain he'll never forget. Draco screamed and screamed, twitching uncontrollably on the carpeted floor, his shrieks growing more high pitched by the minute. Lord Voldemort smiled to himself, although to onlookers it appeared to be more of a sneer, without a hint of warmth.

Then, a flood of emotions hit him.

He wished he'd had a mother.

No – he mustn't think of that -

"_Crucio!"_

He'd never know what it'd be like to have a mother.

Must – concentrate on the torture -

"_Crucio! CRUCIO!"_

If he had a mother, a family member who he loved – wouldn't he be doing the same as Draco? Protecting them?

No!

"_CRUCIO!"_

The boy's screams gained even more volume; tears were trickling down his face, which was contorted in agony.

Lord Voldemort stopped the torture, and looked at the two bodies lying on the floor in front of him. Mother and son.

Draco and Narcissa looked up shakily. Draco, even paler than usual, was trembling, clutching onto the arm of his equally petrified mother – her long white blonde hair hanging over her face – hiding her terrified expression.

The Dark Lord looked at them silently. For a brief second, the mother and the son could have sworn they saw something flicker in the Dark Lord's eyes – a sudden flicker of humanity, of warmth even.

But then it was gone, no trace of it left. Lord Voldemort turned away from them and reached towards the door handle, his pale claw emerging from under the black sleeve.

"_Avada Kedavra"_

There was no warning.

The two family members, who were holding each other closely, fell back to the floor, eyes open, unseeing. Their heads were close together, and their hands remained entwined – even in death.

Lord Voldemort smirked and left the room.

He would make sure he would never feel emotion like that again.


End file.
